Plague of Saroun
by Shadow of the Forgotten Ones
Summary: Bilbo Baggins is a respectable Hobbit, he is really! Sure when he was younger he adventured but now he stays at home unless visiting relatives. It's a predictable life, one that he sometimes wishes would be spiced up. Of course he regrets it when his wish comes true.
1. The Start

The Start

**AN: **Hello lovely readers! This is a zombie story! W00t, my first one ever in fact. I hope you enjoy it. So far the only pairings that I have in mind for this story are the canon couples stated ie Esmeralda/Saradoc and the like, plus Bilbo/Thorin. If you have a couple you like don't be shy shoot me a pm or comment and I'll slip it in if it's a pairing my brain can wrap around xD If you don't understand something let me know so I can try to fix it. Beta read by TheHardCoreHobbit and ParadiseGirl, who I am so very glad took the time to read this. It will probably be edited a few more times cause ParadiseGirl hasn't been able to send me her thoughts yet lol.

Bilbo Baggins knows he isn't the most interesting person to the Big People who live outside the protective Dome of the Shire. Oh sure, when he was younger he "adventured" and was very "unrespectable" to the Hobbits living in the Shire Dome, Section Hobbiton. He still has mementos from his wilder days and unlike most Shirelings, or at least the ones who stay in the Dome and don't venture out into Bree, he knows that outside it, the world is full of science and technology. He has seen the high rising buildings made of metal he has never seen produced in smithies, the low flying carts that aren't carts and the thick smog that clogs the air, making it hard for him to breathe.

But now he is respectable, he enjoys gardening and other respectable Hobbit past times. Always makes sure to eat his seven meals, not a minute late and tuts at the fauntlings that try to steal the pies from his windowsill. Oh how his mother would be scandalized! Her only son, _not_ adventuring!? His father, on the other hand, would be relieved that his son has finally settled down.

It's a source of gossip for his neighbors, the odd mix of blood flowing through his veins. Never before had a Took and a Baggins married... ot that he listened to the harsh whispers of the older Hobbits that criticized his every move. And just maybe it's his odd mixing of blood that saves him.

Life under the Dome can get repetitive easily; the clear glass that covers the entirety of the Shire is the only piece of high technology there is on, or around the fertile grounds depending on how one looks at it. Created by an Istar, long before records were kept, it covers the Hobbit's home. It collects what limited sunlight there is from the outside world and focuses it, tuning it into a blazing pseudo sun and moon. Its sensors allow it to know when the plants need rain and when to turn the air chilly so that the fertile land stays fertile.

So on the day that Bilbo Baggins leaves his large, comfortable smial to visit his cousins Drogo and Primula, toys tucked away to surprise their child Frodo, it is of course; bright and sunny. Looking up at the bright blue sky and lazily moving clouds Bilbo wishes something unexpected would happen before encouraging his pony to move. It doesn't have to be big just something to break up the stagnant flow of time. It's a long ride from Hobbiton to Buckland.

Another interesting blend of blood; Brandybuck and Baggins, even odder that the Baggins decided to leave Hobbiton and settle into Buckland of all places but Bilbo thinks love makes you do odd things. And Drogo Baggins loves Primulla with the same fire that Bilbo say his own father have for his mother. It's night time before he reaches his cousins smial. The moon is high in the sky; a lantern sits in the outer sill letting him know that at least one of his cousins are awake. Walking up to the door, bag of goodies under his arm, he ignores how the hair on the back of his neck stands on end and on how the crickets have stopped chirping. Gandalf, an old friend of the family and quite possibly the maker of the Dome, swore to him a malfunction would never again happen and that the dangerous natural creatures, _wolves_, would never again attack. He trusts the gray clad man and thus ignores the sign, the instincts honed during Fell Winter. Instead he focuses on the bundle of energy that tackles his legs the moment after he knocks on the door. Basks in the happy chatter of a fauntling who has been allowed to stay up past his bed time.

It's late in the next night that the screaming begins, jolting Bilbo awake from where he is sitting in the front room, Frodo in his lap. Too late his instincts kick in and he tries to shuffle them out the back door. Drogo and Primula were too young to remember the Fell Winter thirty years ago. They don't have the scars or the memories that drive Bilbo to grab every knife he can carry. He hears the ominous _thump_, _thump_ on the door and squeezes his eyes shut just for a moment. It's spring not winter, there are no howls in the air, no frost biting at his fingers or hunger clawing at his stomach. In that moment Drogo breaks away from his hiding family, to him it's just the desperate knocks of a neighbor in trouble, not death on paws. He doesn't remember the starving wolves scenting out Hobbits like rabbits in their dens nor the ferocious way they attacked the doors, their bodies hitting the solid wood like a frantic fauntling wanting access to their parents room. It is as Bilbo opens his eyes that the door breaks; Primula screams in fear and Drogo is taken down by an enraged Hobbit who tears out his throat. Without thinking Bilbo has thrown a knife, ending the mad Hobbit and pulled the hysterical Primula out of the smial, a quiet and shaken Frodo in her arms. His hands tremble as he bars the back door with a bench, mind racing he tries to figure out why a Hobbit would act like a feral animal... No like a rabid animal crazed out of its mind with sickness. There are still screams sounding, threatening to throw him into a panic attack, he can't panic, he can't freeze, he has to get Prim and Frodo away, has to keep them safe. They trust him; he sees it in Prim's bright blue eyes. Slowly they edge around the smial towards the front, Prim holding on to Frodo tightly not wanting to let him go, they need to get out of here. Myrtle, his pony, is gone, which is better than being dead, and his cart is mostly untouched. He can see other smials with their doors thrown open or broken down. He's just about to steer the down the road, toward Saradoc and Esmeralda's home when Prim freezes.

"Bilbo... Drogo isn't in the doorway."

"What?" he spins around. Instead of two bodies laying in the doorway there is just the rabid Hobbit. Drogo is nowhere to be found.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know Prim, I don't know."

"Does that mean he's okay?"

Bilbo looks at her, her blond hair already escaping the bun she put it in to sleep and blue eyes showing how young she really is. Thirty eight years old with a four year old son. He doesn't have the heart to tell her it is **_very_** doubtful that Drogo is okay... Instead of speaking he pats her arm. They need to move before whatever broke the other doors comes back out.

It's Frodo who spots his father, further down the lane, body moving awkwardly. Before Bilbo can stop her Prim shoves Frodo into his arms and runs toward her husband. She cries out his name; he turns skin pale and blood pouring out of his throat. Prim stumbles to a stop, she's too far for Bilbo to reach her in time and the shade of her husband is on her before she can scream properly. Anguished cries fill the air as more things pile out and converge on Primula. Covering Frodo's eyes the best he can, he turns around and runs ignoring Frodo's screams of 'Mama' and 'go back'.

By the time they make it to Saradoc's Frodo is silent. Bilbo feels all fifty one years of his life as he trudges up the lane holding onto his cousin. Primula, Drogo... gone... Its quiet compared to where they were and Bilbo feels tense. It doesn't matter that as the Master of Buckland Saradoc has a smial that has no neighbors. He's seen one of his dearest cousin's die only to not really be dead and kill his wife in the same fashion he had been... But if Drogo didn't die does that mean that Prim is alive? Can they be considered alive if they seem to just be walking corpses with foaming mouths? He shudders and brings Frodo closer to him, he shan't let Frodo down; he will keep him safe. It's a slight relief to see the orange door of Brandybuck Hall shut tight. His mind wonders to a time when he taught his older cousins the knock adults were using to let the Hobbits in the smials know it was a Hobbit not a wolf knocking on the door. He hopes Saradoc remembers it or is at least alive; much rather Saradoc being alive and just refusing to answer the door than the less appealing possibility. One loud knock, two soft, five fast then two slow knocks on the door. _Always keep your back to the door Bilbo, face the front, keep the front half of your body with your weapon toward the possible threats my boy_, his father's voice floats in his mind, Bungo always the voice of reason, always calm. He barely has time to register the sound of the door opening before he is pulled into Brandybuck Hall. Esmeralda is hugging him and crying, they heard the screams even all the way out here. Questions are shot rapidly from both elder Brandybucks. Questions that hurt to answer. _Where are Primula and Drogo? What happened?_ He answers them the best he can little Frodo having moved off with Merry; Merry always the perceptive one dragging Frodo to lay down with him.

"Do you think its reached Hobbition and Tookland?"

"I don't know."

Esmeralda bites her lip, thinking worryiedly about her older brother.

"What do you think is happening Bilbo?"

Bilbo lets out a long shaky breath of air.

"To tell the honest to Yavanna truth, Saradoc I haven't a clue. It sounded like Fell Winter again only without the howls. The Hobbit that got Drogo? He was foaming at the mouth like that dog of Farmer Maggot's that went mad," he lets out another shaky breath "I saw that Hobbit rip Drogo's throat out before I put a knife in his brains. I SAW it Saradoc, and yet by the time it took us to sneak around the back Drogo was back on his feet. Only he wasn't Drogo anymore... They don't look like they'd move fast, Drogo was walking as if he had an injured leg before he heard Prim, but they do..."

Esmeralda and Saradoc exchange concerned glances. It'll be... not better but easier to think in the morning they decide, all three adults joining the two sleeping fauntlings. They barricade themselves in the room and Bilbo takes first watch. Many, if not all, Big People think Hobbits weak because of their plentiful lands, peaceful ways and seven meals a day. What they forget is that Hobbits work that plentiful land, that they have a biological _need_ for seven meals a day and if any Big Person ever saw them as they were during Fell Winter they'd never call another Hobbit "Halfling" again. Bilbo looks over at Saradoc curled around his wife and child; he's supposed to wake him up for second watch, swore it actually. But really, Saradoc should know him better than that. Instead he stays awake all night, trying not to think of the last time he did this. Hobbits may not be built to fight but endanger their family and they turn vicious.

Slowly the other wake as the sun rises and Bilbo weathers the lecture Saradoc gives him as the un-barricade the door. Carefully they move into the main part of the smial. With Saradoc watching her back, and Bilbo watching the fauntlings and the front of the house, Esmeralda heads into a back room. A room most Shirelings never had use for until Fell Winter. Brandybucks and Tooks, always the exception, have a small armory in their houses, something to protect them when they go adventuring. Not that swords and war hammers and axes intimidate Big People outside of Bree with their high tech weapons. The weapons will work well against the rabid Hobbits however. Esmeralda returns to the main section of the smial, a small pained smile on her face when she notices that Merry and Frodo have barricaded the front door and closed all the windows. Much like she and Paladin had did during the Fell Winter. She places the weapons on the dining room table heading back into the armory. Ever curious the faunts race to the table 'oohing' and 'aweing' at the weapons. Saradoc having checked the entire smial goes into the kitchen. It won't be as good as his wife's but he can make something for breakfast.

"Brandy Hall is a great place to be but..."

"It is far away and not someplace with defenses," Bilbo finishes for Saradoc.

"Right. We need to try and warn the Hobbits who haven't encountered the rabid ones. There is a horn half way to Tookland..."

"We'll head there, then to Paladin's place, pick them up and head to Bag End. I've kept my traps set up from Fell Winter; they just need to be primed."

Saradoc gives him a thankful smile.

"You guys are always welcome in Bag End Never forget that."

"Course Cousin."

After breakfast, the three adults go through the weaponry that Esmeralda brought out. She's already in leather armor with a Hobbit-sized sword on her hip. Bilbo bets Bag End that she has sharp throwing needles on her person too. Saradoc chooses a hefty Hobbit-sized ax while Bilbo grabs the honest to Yavanna throwing knives and the one bow and quiver that is on the table. At Bilbo's questioning glance Saradoc and Esmeralda grin sheepishly.

"Wanted to see why you liked the thing so dam ahem... much. Couldn't get the hang of it."

Sadly none of the leather armor will fit the fauntlings. Not that Merry and Frodo minded, both of the four year olds are too busy checking out their new sling shots. Quietly the adults... discuss, not argue oh no just discuss, the pros and cons of using a cart. Bilbo stresses the fact that since they have faunts with them it would be safer to have them in the cart, which would also be faster than five Hobbits on foot, two of them with faunts on their shoulders. This drowns out any worry about the cart drawing attention. Oh it most surely will, but at least the fauntlings will be out of reach... hopefully. Esmeralda glares fiercely when Saradoc and Bilbo decide that she will sit up front driving the cart while they walk alongside it at least until they get out of the populated area. Should the run into survivors they'd advise them to either get out of the Dome or hunker down. Carefully they set out to the barn where the cart and ponies are. Minty and Daisy, two calm and rather fast ponies are chosen to draw it. Extra weapons, fauntlings and food are loaded into the back; Esmeralda climbs into the driver's seat and they head off.

Like the ride to Buckland the ride out is slow, even slower despite the fact they have a cart. The inner town is rather destroyed, smials broken into and the like. They are halfway out when they encounter the first rabid Hobbit of the day. Her skin is turning a sickly color and it looks as if parts of her are falling off. Bilbo puts an arrow through her throat but she doesn't go down. Another arrow is fired into her chest. This time she falls. The rabid Hobbits spill out like mad ants when their hill is stepped on after that. While they fight their way out, the three adults learn things about their enemy. They learn that even the more progressed rabid Hobbits, ones that are no longer foaming at the mouth, but have pure white eyes and sickly colored skin that stumble around like their legs are broken and groan and moan, move just as quickly as the others. That they are attracted to the scent of blood, even the blood of their own; they eat flesh and can be slowed down by killing one in front of them so that they stop and eat the dead one. And they don't stay down unless vital spots like the heart or brain are hit... cutting off their head works as well though. But it is the fauntlings that witness something big about them. They point out a non rabid Hobbit trying to get home by the looks of it and the two adult males turn too slow. The Hobbit is attacked, bitten repeatedly on the arm before Bilbo is able to kill the attacker. The Hobbit, clutching his wounded arm to his chest, smiles thankfully at Bilbo and Bilbo signs the message "Get out or hunker down." He turns his back, all three adults dismissing the injured Hobbit after he signs back "I'm getting out of here once I get my family". The fauntlings don't however, they keep their curious little eyes on him. It takes two minutes for the Hobbit to stop walking. Another to start convulsing where he stands and a few seconds to turn around to the cart, his mouth foaming. It's Merry and Frodo's panicked screams that save them; the Hobbit moved quickly catching up to them faster than a normal Hobbit could have. Saradoc cuts off his head with his ax when the mad Hobbit tries to climb into the cart and he pulls the convulsing body away.

"Aule! He's burning up," he exclaims in shock, his hand stinging slightly from the sudden heat "He's hot like he has a fever, a really bad fever."

"Let's not get too close to ones that can still bite or sneeze on us then," Bilbo states uneasily. Three minutes and a handful of seconds to turn a normal Hobbit mad. He's never heard of rabies progressing so quickly.

When they finally make it to the horn used to signal danger, Esmeralda kisses Saradoc. She doesn't like the plan, her going ahead a bit so that if the horn is swarmed she and the faunts will be safe, but she heads off any way. Before she goes she forces her husband to promise to stay safe and kisses Bilbo on the top of his head when she hears that he is staying behind with her husband. Bilbo keeps his bow out, arrow notched and ready to fire. Once they are sure that Esmeralda is far enough away to be safe, Saradoc climbs up the ladder and blows the horn. The Dome isn't perfect; don't believe any Man that says it is, and sometimes it glitches. Nothing as bad as Fell Winter, but time consuming bad none the less, that is why the horns were made. To signal something had gone wrong, so Hobbits know they either need to evacuate or try and tough it out. No rabid Hobbits charge them and they cautiously, yet quickly make their way out. They find Esmeralda waiting for them a little closer than they are comfortable with but they say nothing to her. Lunch is terse, the adults watching for dangers. On the road and out of town they move faster, thankfully not running into too many rabid Hobbits.

Paladin's home is just as large as Saradoc's only it's closer to town. They reach it just before supper. Bilbo goes to make sure the smial hasn't been broken into. Once he sees the door shut tight he whistles twice. Esmeralda and Saradoc secure the cart and together they get the food and fauntlings from it meeting up with Bilbo in front of the door. He knocks the special knock and waits. Much like before the door is opened quickly and they are ushered in. Paladin hugs his little sister to him, giving Saradoc a grateful smile. The triplet Took girls take Merry and Frodo, cooing over them and taking them to Pippin. Eglantine, Paladin's wife, is just as happy to see them, cheerfully making more food, or as cheerfully as on can be in their situation. Both of them agree that Bag End is the best place to be.

"We will head there in the morning then," Bilbo says with a decisive nod.

Saradoc bullies Bilbo into sleeping and takes first watch, ignoring Paladin's claims that 'this is my smial! I take first watch.' Saradoc just smiles at him, making Paladin grunt and mutter about disrespectful brother-in-laws. And when Bilbo jolts awake from nightmares, _memories_, Saradoc sits up with him, talking about happier times. Like the time Paladin took him out to Farmer Maggot's fields, stripped him of his clothes and tied him up like a scarecrow.

"You take good care of my little sister you hear me? If you think this is bad just get on my bad side," Saradoc says mimicking Paladin. Bilbo laughs softly telling his own Paladin tales. Like how one day when he was just a small faunt Paladin got into Bungo's wine and wound up running around Bag End naked. Paladin lets out a groan, sitting up and giving Bilbo a baleful stare.

"_Must_ you always tell that story?"

"Yes."

Saradoc chuckles and with a sleepy yawn lets Paladin take over the watch.

"He's a good boy Paladin. Only a year younger than you and a year older than Esa."

"I know Bilbo, but she's my sister..."

"He'd die to keep her safe."

"That's what is worrying me now."

Bilbo pats his shoulder gently. He doesn't say they'll make it, doesn't try and reassure his cousin. He wants to, wants to wipe away the worry but he can't. Morning comes and they load up the cart; Paladin is smiling and joking as he walks next to the cart making the children laugh. Eglantine is up front with Esmeralda, both of them gossiping softly. Traveling to Hobbiton is easier than it was to travel to Tookland. Complacency, Bilbo remembers too late, begs for disaster to strike. They've stopped for Elvensies when the sun itself flickers like an unfortunate candle left out in a storm. The fauntlings scream in fear. Eglantine calls out for the girls and Pippin to get back to the cart. The Took blood in the younglings makes them thrice as curious as normal fauntlings. Pearl grabs her sisters' hands and they run to the safety of their mother right as a frightening scream pierces the air. The Hobbits freeze just for a moment then spring into action. The children are loaded into a cart; Esmeralda is doing her damnedest to keep the ponies calm, Saradoc and Eglantine are trying to keep the children quiet. Another scream hits their ears, closer this time and the ponies nearly run over Esmeralda in their want to get away. Eglantine looks around madly, triple checking her head count, there is a faunt missing.

"Where's Pippin?!"

Paladin curses under his breath and looks around for his youngest. He spots Pippin, holding a handful of weeds with sticks in his hair; at the edge of the clearing as a third scream sounds. The ponies have had enough and rush off, throwing Saradoc, attempting to get down and retrieve his wayward nephew, completely out of the cart. Bilbo and Paladin, the only two not in the cart because Esmeralda had hoped holding on to the reins would keep the ponies from bolting hear the painful **_SNAP_** of bone and Saradoc cries out with an answering scream echoing.

"Shit! Bilbo, you get Saradoc back into the cart, I'll get Pippin."

Bilbo can't say a word against Paladin's plan as the Hobbit takes off to save his son. Thankfully Esmeralda has the ponies back under a tentative control and brings the cart back around to Bilbo. Paladin is halfway back to them when the first rabid Hobbit breaches the forest line. Esmeralda and Eglantine shriek out in fear. They can't bring the cart to him, they can't. Bilbo has his bow out and is contemplating getting out and rushing toward Paladin when a larger figure follows the now swarming smaller Hobbits. The new larger figure opens its mouth and they find the source of the screams that have been frightening them and the ponies.

"PALADIN, get that ASS moving!" Esmeralda screams ignoring Pimpernel's gasp of shock at her Aunt's language. Paladin picks up speed and Bilbo thinks he's made it; he's only a toss away from the cart for Eru's sake, when a rabid hobbit cuts out of the forest from the left. Paladin sees it and Bilbo gets the horrid luck of seeing the exact moment that it registers in Paladin's mind that he isn't going to make it. He bends his head down and whispers something to Pippin, locks eyes with Bilbo and tosses Pippin. It's instinct that has Bilbo leaning out of the cart, a cart that he is just realizing is moving again, to catch Pippin and it's hurting, panting, possibly going into shock Saradoc who keeps _him_ from falling out.

"Keep your promise Brandybuck!"

And their gone, Paladin is gone, out of sight and Esmeralda is sobbing uncontrollably. Eglantine is trying not to cry as she holds onto her girls. Bilbo stands shakily, trying his damnedest to ignore how Saradoc is leaning out of the cart, one arm out stretched like he can still grab Paladin. Pippin is handed to Eglantine and the small blond Hobbit uncurls and shakily holds out the now damaged bouquet of flowers.

"I pickeded them for you mommy," Pippin cries not really knowing what is happening only that it is his fault. Eglantine bursts into tears hugging her baby to her chest.

"Oh, you silly fool of a Took."

They make it to Hobbiton and Bag End without anymore loses. Though Pippin is silent and no matter what Merry does he can't get Pippin to smile again. All the doors in Hobbiton are shut tight and the windows closed. Getting into Bag End Bilbo is nearly brained by his best friend/gardener/brother by bond, Hamfast. Who, as soon as he sees who he nearly brained apologizes profusely.

"You said to come here if it was getting bad."

"I know, you did well Hamfast."

Time moves slowly as they stay cooped up in Bag End, weeks crawl by and soon screams start in Hobbiton as well. The adults stay armed and one night Bilbo is shocked to hear the special knock on the door. Opening the door reveals a blood splattered Lobelia, another best friend/sibling by bond, and a shaken Lotho. He quickly pulls the two into his home, Lobelia slumps into Bilbo's hold asking him if she's still welcome at home even though she hasn't been the friendliest Hobbit since she married Otho. Otho who isn't with her, Otho who won't be making anymore snide remarks about Bilbo, Otho who won't raise a hand against her ever again. There are holes in his family, holes that will never be filled, but it's almost complete... And Bilbo thinks they just may make it through whatever is happening. Then the sun, which has been flickering near constantly goes out and they are left with only the weak natural sunlight filtering through the now normal glass of the Dome.


	2. The Cause

The Cause

**AN:** Hiya! I'm gonna kinda explain this chapter so you hopefully don't get confused. It starts earlier than the first chapter and is from Thranduil's point of view. It also carries a bit further than the first chapter time wise remember that this is from Thrandy's POV! I hope he isn't too OOC

Thranduil feels his lip curl as he logs off of his call, the large flat screen in front of him darkening as he turns his back. Elrond, his lip curls even more, is once again trying to get him to stop. That what he is doing is dangerous. That he is heading toward disaster just like Gondolin. Thranduil snorts, he isn't foolish enough to attempt to play Vala. All of his work is centered on viruses, bacteria and on occasion splicing of elements to create better weapons. Sure he has a _few_ projects that _could_ potentially cause mass destruction, but they are heavily guarded. There is no way, absolutely none, that any of them can get out.

"Sire!"

Thranduil glances at the underling who dare interrupt his angry thoughts, nose wrinkling when he sees that it is a man. Oh how he wishes that he could just hire Elves but that is discrimination and the lawsuits for those are tedious and time consuming. He waves his hand impatiently, wanting whatever he has to say said.

"Two of the test subjects from Project Sauron are missing sir!"

Thranduil doesn't yell, scream or panic. Those reactions are beneath an Elf. Besides it's most likely a mistake. There is no way that two of the five subjects of the Sauron, an idiotic name derived from a Man fairy tale about an evil Wizard that turned Men into wraiths, Project are missing. It is one of the most guarded of the virus projects, though it started off as something different. Plus no one on the outside knows it exists and no one on the inside would be stupid enough to try to release it. There are too many unknown variables for it to be valuable. Too many unexpected things can happen for it to be shown off like a miniature pink Oliphaunt.

He follows the Man, taking delight in the obvious fear the Man has of him, to the security area for the Sauron Project. There is however, no mistake in the emptiness of one of the three fiber glass cages. The first cage holds a single test subject. It's race is indistinguishable, it could be a Man or an Elf, based solely on the height but it is in the final stage of the virus. The subject watches the door with calm, intelligent if hauntingly white eyes. At odd intervals it releases a high pitched scream, that agitates the two in the other cage, it's skin is sickly in color, at times it appears greenish at others a deathly white. Bits of the subject have fallen off, the left ear and most of it's hair. They've had to place a mithril sheet between cages because the two in the second cage throw themselves at the glass trying to get to the first. The subjects in the second cage, one man one woman, both Elves this time. They are in what the Scientists call the Primary Stage of the virus. Their mouths are foaming, eyes white, skin just turning sickly. Their bodies jerk as they madly try to find a way out, intelligence leaves them in this stage leaving murderous creatures instead until the last stage. They kill quickly violently when it's feeding time, animals sprayed with human pheromones a trick that doesn't work one subjects in the last stage and has taught them that animals are not susceptible to the virus hopefully, and have no problem eating their dead. They started out with more than five in the beginning and through trial and error they were brought down to five. The first subject ate it's cage mate when it was killed trying to escape. As time, days, goes on they will decay but at the moment they look to be in perfect health. The two that are missing are kept in the final stage, also separated from the second cage but that is so that they don't realize what will happen to them. They are freshly injected with the virus. Thranduil can't remember what the original purpose the virus had before they labeled it a virus. All he can remember is that they mentioned better strength and resistance to pain but plans were shelved after the first three days. He lost two good scientists that day, the sentimental fools had seen the subjects convulsing on the ground and rushed in to help them.

The virus they found is passed around through biting or if your unlucky, or lucky depending on the stage it is on, ingesting the bodily fluids such as saliva, blood and reproductive fluids. They learned later that if a person vomits almost directly after said ingestion they won't turn. They learned after losing an assistant who had ingested a mouth full of blood after a guard killed a subject that was charging the poor thing. They had placed him with the other freshly injected subjects, he had lost his lunch everywhere after getting a mouthful. When the other subjects moved on to the Primary Stage and he didn't they attacked him. The Men gave the subjects a name, a name he personally hated but it fit if you believed the superstitions. _Zombie._ And now two of them are loose. He bites back a growl, his carefully constructed mask cracking. He would not have his home razed or have his name likened to that of Gondolin!

"Show me the tapes for last night."

"Yes Sir!"

As he watches the tapes his face contorts in anger and he doesn't bother to fight the growl at the obvious Istar interference in them, an annoying static that makes it impossible to see what happens. Damn Wizards can never leave things be, they have to meddle like Mithrandir did with the Halflings. Weak creatures that they are, so weak that they cannot survive properly without potent sunlight and yet Mithrandir loves them. Hands curl into fists, one of the Wizards had stolen from him! How dare they, when he found out which one it would not matter that they are sent by the Valar themselves he would end the traitorous Wizard.

"Find them. We cannot allow them to remain loose," he does not yell or shout, his voice remains cal,, collected and cold despite the rage he feels inside. Valar knows what could happen if one of them got out into a populated area. The subjects have no clue what they were infected with, killers get no right to complain about a possible bid at freedom, if they lived and didn't cause trouble they would be allowed back in society. _If._ With a dramatic turn he walks, not storms no that is beneath him, out. He needs a drink for he can already see Elrond's smug face if he catches wind of what happened. _But there is no need to start a panic_, he thinks sipping on a glass of wine in his office, _the subjects, the zombies, will be caught in a timely manner. No need to get the Dwarves or Rangers involved none at all._

It takes three days for the first report to come in. A group was attacked by an insane man. Thranduil has the group quarantined but it's to late. The subject was... very open about who he sowed his seed in and was very violent as well. More zombies began popping up and he orders research for a cure to be be found. The only saving grace, if it can be called that, is that it takes three days for it to work it's ways through the body and become the Primary stage, where it is at it's most contagious mainly because of the foaming mouth. The Dwarves are angry at him, _You should have informed us the moment they got loose. As the main line of defense for the civilians we __**need**__ to know!,_ for keeping it under wraps but they understand to a degree. After all civilians panicking and acting as if the world is on fire is not something they need. However as the weeks go by panic sets in, the virus spreads quickly, far more quickly than Thranduil and his scientists could ever imagine. By the end of the month Thranduil watches with a sinking stomach as the Dome above the Shire breaks down.

Bree the way station, built to help the transition from going to one extreme to another, in and out of the Shire is crawling with Dwarves and Rangers making sure that no infected get in... But it appears they acted to slow. A week before the Dome shut down Hobbits flee from the peaceful area not even caring that the sunlight they needed was as bright out in Bree as it is, was, in the Shire. Most of them have to be in shock, there is no way that it took minutes for the virus to reach Primary nor for it to take a day to reach the final stage, at the violence the zombies though they call them feral or mad or even rabid, _which _Thranduil thinks grimly _is an accurate way to describe them_ brought down upon them. All are mourning lost loved ones and praying to Mandos for the ones still inside trying it wait it out like a bad winter. He pities those fools, the zombies can't starve and they become more intelligent as time goes by.

Order and peace goes out the window by the third month. A single infected person can infect many without knowing they are infected and those that the infected do the same. Despite their best efforts the Dwarves, with their mountains and weapons and military background, try their best to keep a semblance of order and offer shelter to those in need. But it's too much for even them to handle. And what pisses Thranduil off the most is not how technology is beginning to fail around him or that he is playing host to a possibly insane brown clad Istar no, no it's that Elrond won't rub it in his face that he, Elrond high scientist of a stick up his assness, was right. Won't look at him in disappointment and Thranduil knows, absolutely knows the medical scientist wants too, he's know the Elf for centuries! But Elrond, the insufferable ass, refuses to do so. It's like knowing your going to be slapped only it hasn't happened yet and the person who is going to slap you keeps moving as if they will, purposely, only to not. Thranduil rubs tiredly at his temples, wishing desperately for a large glass of wine or at least for the brown clad Wizard to disappear... Actually both would be great.


End file.
